A TERRIBLE INHERITANCE.

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 72, 26 March 1888, Page 6

A TERRIBLE INHERITANCE.

BY GRANT ALLEN.

CHAPTER I

The garden part} at the Woolryches' was a great success. Henry Prior, the young doctor who had come to Melbury some weeks before, had never seen Bertha Woolrych looking sweeter or prettier in her innocent girlhood than she did that memor. able Tuesday. Bertha was a tall and Btately girl, with jet-black hair and largo dark eyes, and Harry had admired her from the very first day he saw her, with an admiration ever steadily increasing. As 6 he- moved about gracefully among the ctoup of scattered guests on the lawn that cloudless August day, with a happy smile and a pleasant word for all alike, Henry eaid to himself, with a thrill in his heart, " Whatever comes, I must make her mine for ever and ever." The Woolryches' house was one ot tne numerous handsome modern buildings that crowd the old Park Hill and overlook the sea at Melbury Regis; and. the hall was filled with endless mementoes of oir Arthur Woolrych's many campaigns in all climates of the earth, from Japan to the Cape, and from Canada to India. Snowshoes and toboggans in the big trophy by the front door jostled oddly against Zulu assegais and Australian bdomerangs : West African calabashes and Jamaican obeah-sticks hung side by side with American buffalo-heads and long woven strings of Deads and wampum. The whole housvwas indeed a sort of amateur domestic museum, crammed to the attics with those numberless curiosities which Sir Arthurs taste for queer outlandish places and people had brought together from the four quarters of this strangly-peopled modern world of ours. A group of young men lounged idly chatting "in the hospital vestibule. One of them took down a quaint-looking bow £.nd a bamboo-tipped arrow from a nail in v,he hall. " Odd sort of archery, this," he said with a smile to his next neighbour, " Andaman Islander's, or something of the sort. I wonder, now, whether one could hit a target at fifty yards with it ?" _ •' I wouldn't advise you to try, Wilson, the elder of the two answered carelessly. "Sir Arthur wouldn't like you playing with his curios. He's a rusty crusty old gentleman of the old school, you know, and he thinks a lot of these rusty crusty old spears and arrowheads of his. lou won't get asked to Lady Woolrych's next at home, I promise you, if you go playing tricks with the knobkerries and the tigerclaws. " The young man laughed and turned away carelessly. " I think I'll have a shot with thorn, all the same," he answered with a curl of the lip. " They've got the targets out down on the lawn there, beyond the tennis court. Let's have a try, anyhow. I should like to make a bull's-eye Avith an antediluvian arrow. I say, Maitland, I'm going down to take a turn at arehety." He strolled across the lawn in a lazy, easy, jaunty manner, witli the bow and the splinter-tipped arrow in his hand, and came soon to the part of the grounds where the straw-backed targets stood out in a long row together against the clear skyline. Bertha Woolrych, their host's daughter, leant against the parapet q£- the terrace hard: by* talking with her bright smile to one of the guests, and beside her Tay, her shaggy Skye terrier, lay basking in the sun, with his hair in his eyes after the fashion for ever beloved of his kind. But as soon as young Wijsop raised, the bow at arm's length, and began to fit the arrow to the taut spring, Tay jumped up in an agony of, delight (for hp ( loved; archery), and rushed forward towards the target, barking and leaping in eager anticipation of tihe coming sport. Bertha and her companion paused and watched, and, a little group gathered around at once to observe the fate of th.c barbaric arrow. 'In a second, almost before they knew what had happened, the arrow, missing its hold,- had darted obliquely from the stretched string, and flying aside, partly through a twist in the warped shaft, hut partly also from the archer's inexperience, had missed ths target altogether, and fallen beyond it, a yard or two to the lefy of the point aimed at. A little peal of laughter went up for the young man's discomfiture from the group of spectators; next moment, it was interrupted by a loud yelp of sudden pain from Tay,who bounded wildly into the air, and then fell back upon the lawn, quivering convulsively. Bertha saw with horror that he had lain half hidden in the unmown grass behind ithe archery plot, and that the bamboo tip had hit him in the side, where his wound was already bleeding profusely. Sir, Arthur Woolrych rushed,to the spot at once, almost before the others could close in around the poor wounded and paralysed animal. Tay lay ripid and .motionless upon the grass, only a faint trembling of his lips and .feet betraying that any. trace of life was Ptill left in him. The effect was instantaneous and almost magical; he seemed to be stiffened out like a corpse, at oncej and to he suffering from some terrible internal agony* Sir ..Arthur approached and, drew out the arrow from the, slight ■wound: with a stern look round upon the hushed spectators. "This is one of;the Guiana arrows," he said, glancing around himangarily. " Who has done this ? The poor beast is evidently worse than wounded. How foolish to play.tricks with edge tools,! The point must have been poisoned, as many of these savage weapons often are. I never allow anybody in the liouse to handle them." ■; • . ■ • Bertha seized the stiff and trembling dog eagerly in her arms, and wrapped him up in tier own light Shetland wrapper. '' Oh, is there any doctor here who can come, and look at him ?" she cried piteously. " Poor dear Tay! just look now glazed and agonised bis eyes are!" "Mr Prior's here," somebody answered in haste from the group. '■ He knows more about poisons and; poisoning than almost any other man in all England; He's made a special study of it, I? know. Mr Prior ! Mr Prior ! Come here you're wanted.' Harry Prior hurried across the lawn with rapid steps in answer to the call, and came up quickly £o where Bertha Had thrown bereelf on .her knees upon the grass, with tbe poor beast growing every moment more rigid and deathlike, in her. trembling arms. He took the dog from her handfc tenderlvj and examined* it with care for a ; few seconds. Then he said in a tone of considerable surprise, "This is a very remarkable case ! How on earth did the accident happen ? If-ib weren't impossible, I should say. the animal had. been poisoned with curari. )S

"" What's curari?" Bertha asked iii fcjreachless eageriness. " Curari^'' HarryJrepeated. *f Why, the. South American Indian arrow -poison. It ys very mucn used, you knowj ay the' Guiana Indians,; They smear it, on their splintered bamboo arrowheads, and it retains its fatal power for an incredible time. Itpjcoducea tetanus* just like what *Mf P.99E;dog'a : now suffering from. But how on earth could any curari have gqt tp, Melbury? I'm the only person;in the,place at all likelyjto have any in his possession!" , Sir Arthur Wpblrych held, up the guilty ?" 0W l be>fc>re his face. "This is what did it, he aaid, s6emly. • "It's ;a 'Giiian.a 0!?1^ Some-ypupg fooj«or t other; has taken it dawn fcom its-pfeg1 in the hall' and gbne-aimu»& stupidly^witlfit kt*the' target. UopuUedha4iv-people who meddle with

these things are always just the very ones who know nothing on earth about them— and the thing slipped and went off crooked, and wounded poor Tay, who was hidden behind the target. I've no doubt it/M curari. I was always afraid those tips might be poisoned." Harry Prior gave a sigh of sudden relief. " I'm glad of that," he said. "I was half afraid at first—though I'm always very careful—that I myself might somehow be the culprit. I didn't think it likely anybody elso at Melbury would have any curari, and I began to wonder whether, by any extraordinary mischance or other, I might have left a trace of it about undestrbyed anywhere." "But my poor dog!" Bertha cried, anxiously. " See what pain he's in !Mr Prior, Mr Prior, can't you do anything, please, to save him ?" " A week ago," Harry Prior answered at once, "I should have said, without a, moment's hesitation, ' No, the case is hopeless. Till then, no antidote had ever been even suggested for curari. But wifchin the last few days I have had one sent me for trial from South America—a powder made from another local herb, whose properties"! had reason to suspect of being antagnistic to those of the drug, and we can at least try it. If it succeeds, we shall have discovered a new cure for the most terrible form of poisoning yet known to medical science." " How lucky you were here \r Bertha cried, delighted. " Yes," Harry said. "If the experiment is successful it will indeed be lucky. It will save not only your dog's life, which to mo, of course, is-no small matter, but innumerable hunaan lives as well, I trust, in the future."

Bertha blushed as her eyes met his. Harry wrapped the dog carefully up in the shawl, and saying hastily that the treatment must be tried at once if it was to be tried at all, went off as quickly as ho could to his own surgery.

CHAPTKH II-

To Harry Prior's immense delight, the antidote acted with almost as marvellous rapidity as the, poison itself had done. Scarcely had he injected the new solution into the wound, and washed it well with the untried powder, when the stiffened limbs began to relax once more as if by magic, and the tightened b'-eath to come and go in the poor creature's limbs with greater freedom. Harry laid the dog in a basket by the kitchenfire, gave it some warm milk to drink, and continued the treatment with assiduous care for a few hours. Before nine o'clock Tay had i-ecovcred the use of his limbs as usual, and was barking loudly to return to his mistress. At that moment Harry Prior's heart was full to overflowing. Human nature, indeed, ia strangely compounded. Ho had made a great medical discovery. It would relieve in future an immense mass of human suffering. It would prevent, in all probability, the commission of hideous crimes. .It would perhaps prove of immense use to medicine generally. Bub Harry Prior thought first of none of these things just then, dear as they would have been to his, heart at other times. Neither did ho think either of the honour, credit, position, and; wealth which such a discovery might pos•sibly bestow upon him. No; he thoughtfirst that it was-Bertha Woolrych's dog he had cured, and that Bertha Woolrych would be grateful for his services. lie carried the dog round carefully to the house once more, and was Bhown into the room where the family were sitting. Bertha was • delighted at her pet's recovery, and full of gratitude for Harry's care and. skill exerted in curing ; him. Harry, top, felt somewhat flushed by: this' time with the joy of his unexpected success. "It's a great triumph," ha said; warmly to Sir Arthur. " You know, curarij has1 always hitherto been looked upon as incurable."

"I know it," Sir Arthur responded curtly. ".I—l've always known it, ever since the famous Lichfield) case. It was the stuff, you know, that Lichfield used to .commithia terrible crime with—the Erith ,murder, as people called it." Harry Prior gave a sudden start of surprise. " You remember the Lichfield case, then ?" he said with interest, for questions of the sort belonged especially to his own department. "You knew that Lichfield used curari ?"

"Well, yes," Sir Arthur answered, with a certain, fihow of reluctance in his voice. "I had reason to know it. The Ljchfields were once intimate friends of mine. Poor Lichfield was1 a doctor, as you must remember, and. he poisoned, a patient, an uncle of his, who, he had reason to know, had latelymade'a will in his favour. That was twenty-five years ago, I should think. But of course you've read all about it, Mr Prior,"

''Lhaye," Harry, answered, " I recollect the case oxtremely'well. Lichfield was himself a worker at poisons, just as I aip, and I feel particulary interested in the Erith murder, because of a very curious coincidence which happened to me, myself, some months ago: I hja'd just invented "what seemed to. me a plausible theory of 'the action of strychnine, and 1 sent a paper on the.subject to the 'Transactions of the College of Physicians,' detailing; iny,prin : ciple. ■■" To my immense surprise^' the secretary sent me back a Copy 6f a p,aper, con r !tribut£id. nearly' thirty, years ago to the ■same i Transactions ' by t>t: Lichfield, in |which.the Very'theory Inad hittfpo'n.waa ;disti'njct\y foreshadow eti, and alniostin the VeVy self-same wtircts. It shows how mucn alike two minds may work on a single subject, that Dr. Liehfield used several of.the ivery. same illustrations and'-examples'and analogies that I did, and that his style aria manner were all but identical in every way with my own." Sir Arthur looked'at the handsome; dark jyoung doctor's large eyes inquisitively fora moment. A shade seemed to come across his bronzed: brow. Then he said abruptly, " Lichfield was -a-very handsome; dark man, with most peculiar eyes. I can see him now standing before me. Poor fellow ; I was always, profoundly sorry for him. Though he committed that terrible, monstrous crime, he\always.seenied to me, as far as I could judge, a very affectionate, kindhearted man. I suppose the love of gain overbore everything. And yet we never thought' him art avaricious man. It was c'ui'iousj curious. T was always glad he never lived to .get through his trial."'

"He died jwhile. the trial was in progress, I think ?" Karry said, suggesting. "He died1 while it was in progress. Died of grief and shame, I suppose, for the1 evil he ha<sUwrough~t.' Couldn't face the degradation of hie'wife and: children, ' He advised' them to go away from England; and. live elsewhere under an assumed name, where the memory of his dißgrace could1 never touch them. Then his heart broke, art I he died in pfrison the very night before the verdict wbuld'have been given.' I Avas glad for his poor wife's sake that he didn't five through it. If he had been hanged— But the idea is too horrible !"

" He had children, then ?" "Yes, two' children: a boy and a girj ; th.c fepy, a] fine, handsome, darkhaired, . intelligent, littje fellow, with his father's eyes—the very image. of Lichfleld. They w.ent away^ anid I .never heai-d againwhat; became of thpm, 'We all. lived at, Eribli then) 'that was before I r wenb into the., arinyl"./ Therej waf a pause for a moment, andj then : the General spoke again. "I've often wondered, "he, said, " what became of those poor children. rt

Harry shuddered. "It, was a terrible inheritanceindeedfor them," he,sajd. '• I : don't, know, whether my profession makes ma thji^kj 100 mucK, of hereditary; transmission andaU^thjil; .sorjj, of thing; but. ,if I were born with a curse ljko that hanging over me, I'd give up ixiy life entirely to aoma kind of work that would

do most good for my fellow-men, and expose me least of all to any possible temptation. And I'd never marry. Apart even from the possibility of my passing on to my children the inherited taint inherent in their blood—which alone would terrify me—l'd never like to think that sons or daughters of mine were born with the hereditary shame of murder behind thena. "You're quite right," Sir Arthur said with prompt decision. "A drunkards son should eschew wine; a gamblers son should never for the world touch cards or dice; and a murderers son should feel for ever the terrible possibilities of crime within him. But then, it isn't likely that the son of a poisoner would be born with the sort of moral nature which would urge him to lead a life of earnest endeavour, and rather to conquer his own inclination than to pass on a taint of blood to his children.s children. He'd probably never think at all about it." Harry smiled. " That's true," he answered. " One can't help reading one's own moral ideas into the minds of others, who would in all probability be very differently constituted indeed. Thank 'heaven that we come of a better stock, and that temptations are for us, I hope, less present and less urgent, much as we all need always to guard against them." At that moment, Bertha, who had passed out'of the open folding windows on to the" lawn some moments before, crossed on the front of the lawn in the August moonlight, with Try beside her. frisky as ever. Sir Arthur arose, lighted a cigar, and strolled out with his guest on the lawn. Lady Woolrych rose too, and in five minutes Harry found himself, to his immense delight, standing by the terrace parapet alone with Bertha, while her father and mother walked up and down some distance behind them. The moonbeams danced merrily on the sea below ; tho night was calm, and warm, and delicious. Harry Prior was very much in love. Bertha Woolrych was very beautiful. Before Harry left the terrace that evening ho had whispered a few words, which need not be repeated, in Bertha's ear; and Bertha, blushing and looking down, had answered him simply, " I dv, Mr Prior," And then Harry turned and went with his heart beating, and his face flushed, the happiest and proudest man that moment in all England. When Bertha, with many little stammering apologies, told her story that night to her mother, in her own room, Lady Woolrych bent over and kissed her tenderly, saying with a sigh, "My darling, we shall a,ll be sorry to lose you, bub I think you've chosen wisely; I'm sure you've chosen wisely. He's a good young man and a fine fellow. We could wish for no one better to marry you, Bertha."

But when Lady Woolrych, wiping her eyes, went in five minutes later to tell her husband, with many praises of Harry's manliness and sterling good qualities, Sir Arthur answered, somewhat uneasily, "He's a very nice young man certainly, and seems to be full of high principles and fine enthusiasm, and all that sorb of thing ; and they tell me he's sure to get on in his profession also. Sir Benjamin Wroxall says he's the ablest student he ever had, and he'll one day be President of the College of Physicians. But there's something in his, face I don't quite like—something in his face that somehow frightens me." "Frightens you, my dear!" Lady Woolrych interpoeed. . " Why, I think he's got the kindest and handsomest face I ever saw, except yours, Arthur."

Sir Arthur hesitated. "Oh, yes, handsome enough," he said, " and kind, I grant you; bufc t}ierg's something in him time rcminas mo strangely of somebody— well, there, never mind about it now, if you please, Amelia. The other face Was kiffd and handsome totf, I remember."

For a moment there was silence. Then Sir Arthur, fingering his eyeglass nervously, said with a little start, " I %yish he didn't take such an interest in poisons, I don't like these men who go in for poisoning ; it isn't at all a pleasant subject." " But my dear," Lady Woolrych objected gently, "somebody must know all about poisons, of course, or what should we dp to get cured when wo. took them by accident?. Look, at the good he.was able to do to poor little Tay this very day, now. Bertha would have cried.her dear eyes out if she'd really lost him.'*

"I know, I know," Sir Arthur answered testily. " But I dpn't like poisons. I'm prejudiced against poisons. I have my reasons. I like, the young man, and I'see that he's really very fond of Berfeha ; but I wish s he didn't go in for poisons. It's a horrid subject, a ghastly subject, and I can't and won't pretend: I like it." ( To be continued.)